


Stabbing 101: How To React

by Jen27ny



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23469097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jen27ny/pseuds/Jen27ny
Summary: You would think that after everything, Peter would’ve learned to dodge a knife.He hasn’t.You would think that after everything, Tony would’ve developed a sixth sense when the kid is about to get stabbed. Or at least made the Spider-Man suit stabbing-proofed.He hasn’t.Peter goes through all possible ways of reacting to getting stabbed, and Tony is unfortunate enough to be there, too.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 33
Kudos: 355





	Stabbing 101: How To React

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> So, once again this is based on another [tumblr post](https://jen27ny.tumblr.com/post/190948253412/generalgrievousdatingsim) and the idea just didn't let me rest. And it's not like I have a lot of other stuff to do right now, sooo....
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> (Please stay home and wash your hands!)

**Option 1: Gently touch your wound and stare at your blood covered fingers before fainting straight into the arms of your ally.**

It kind of feels like Peter is going on a field trip.

“Do you have everything?” May asks, looking around their apartment one more time.

“Yes, May,” Peter answers with a deep sigh, though it’s pretty much fake. He’s just as excited and nervous as she is.

“Are you sure? How about you check your bag one more time?”

“You mean the bag I already checked five times in the last fifteen minutes?”

“Don’t get sassy with me, Mister.” Peter smiles at her brightly as she levels him with a glare. “Are you sure you have your suit?”

You know, the kind of field trip you take when you’re a vigilante and part-time Avenger, and the other Avengers asked you to help them out with a mission, so you’re about to fly halfway across the country. That kind of field trip.

“Of course. It was the first thing I packed.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just so on edge,” May sighs, pacing around the apartment again, unable to stand still for even a second. It’s something both of them have in common. It used to drive Ben crazy.

“May,” Peter says, grabbing her hands and forcing her to stand still long enough to hear his words, “it’s going to be fine. Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes are with me, and they said it’s only a small thing, nothing big. It’s more like a training exercise than a real mission. Nothing dangerous at all.”

There are rumors about salvaged parts of the Iron Legion being sold on the black market. The rumors aren’t really believable, seeing that Tony is 99.9% sure he collected even the tiniest screw of his old suits, and they think it’s probably just someone looking for attention by mentioning the Iron Man suits – but still, Tony takes it pretty personally. After looking into whoever it is that claims to sell the parts and deeming them not too dangerous, Tony asked Peter if he wanted to tag along as a bit of training.

Needless to say, Peter has agreed in less than a heartbeat, vibrating at a speed that the human eye cannot perceive.

“I know, I know,” May sighs, running a hand through her hair, “I just worry. I don’t like the idea of you getting hurt.”

“Mr. Stark will be with me, so I won’t get hurt.” May levels him with another unimpressed glare. “Well, and Colonel Rhodes will be there, too!” That, on the other hand, seems to calm her down a bit. “I know you worry, May. But it’ll be fine. Honestly. I’ll be back before you know it and then we can eat as much Thai food as we want, and I’ll tell you all about how I kicked ass.”

His phone buzzes. A text from Happy that he’s waiting outside in the car that will take him to the quinjet where Tony and Rhodey are waiting for him.

“You’re probably right,” May says and hands him his bag before kissing his forehead. “Alright. Stay safe, don’t do anything stupid, and don’t tell anyone I’ll let you say ass.”

Peter grins at her. “Bye, May! Larb you!”

“Larb you, too! Have fun!”

Peter basically flies down the seven flights of stairs and jumps into the sleek, black car waiting outside, unable to control all of the excited energy inside him. “Hey Happy!” he greets the driver, who looks as disinterested as always.

“You seem full of energy,” he says as if that’s a bad thing.

“I’m just excited to go on this mission.” Happy only grunts, probably relieved that Tony is the one who has to deal with an overexcited, enhanced teenager.

The drive to the quinjet is not so long, but it seems to take forever for both Peter and Happy (for different reasons, though). Before the car even full stops, Peter is already jumping out of it, yelling a quick good bye to Happy before racing into the waiting quinjet to Tony and Rhodey, who stop talking the second they spot the young superhero.

“Hey, kid,” Tony greets him with a big smile. “Glad you could make it.”

“Of course!” Peter grins back. “Thank you so much for letting me come along!”

“Do you see that, Tony?” Rhodey asks with a mock-serious impression, pointing to Peter. “Waiting to be invited to a mission? And thanking when you get to participate? That’s called manners.”

“Well, I got along great without them until now, so why change?” Rhodey rolls his eyes and gives Peter a pat on the shoulder as a greeting, as Tony throws his arm around the boy, leading him deeper into the jet. “How about a little tour, yeah? We won’t be in here long, but it’s always good to know your surroundings.”

The flight doesn’t take too long and with every inch they get closer to their destination, Peter gets more and more nervous. Part of it is excitement, part of it is anxiety, but Peter can’t tell which part has the upper hand. Tony tries his best to calm his nerves, and it does help a little bit, but the second Rhodey tells them to suit up, Peter loses all of the arduously built calmness.

“Alright, and remember, kid,” Tony says, face hidden behind the Iron Man faceplate as they stand by the open hanger of the jet, a couple of hundred feet directly above the hideout, “you keep your distance and only web them up, okay?” Peter can only nod, heart beating in his throat. Oh man, he really hopes he’s not going to throw up. That would be, like, so embarrassing. “If you need any help, call for one of us. No solo gigs, okay?”

“Y-Yeah, totally,” Peter croaks, his voice about an octave higher than normally.

“Hey, look at me, Pete.” Peter does and looks right into Tony’s actual face, the helmet suddenly gone. The billionaire gives him a reassuring smile. “It’s gonna be fine. In fact, it’s gonna be so fine, it’s probably going to be boring. Right, Rhodey?”

“Oh, for sure,” Rhodey agrees, lifting his faceplate to give Peter a little wink. “You will be wondering why you even bothered leaving Queens for this.”

Peter can’t help but chuckle at their attempts to lighten the mood, and he gets another pat from Tony in return. Then, Rhodey’s face plate shuts and Tony’s helm reappears, and they fly off. Peter takes another breath that’s supposed to be calming but is not calming at all, reminding himself that everything will be fine, and then he jumps out of the jet, gliding through the air (thanks to the new update Tony installed into his suit last week), the familiar rush of adrenaline he knows from swinging through the city filling his veins.

It is awesome.

And it doesn’t stop to be awesome. Peter shoots a web at the Iron Man suit to break his fall as they reach the hideout. Tony and Rhodey make quips as they storm the hideout, literally giving the ones inside a run for their money – which Peter stops by webbing them up to the walls. As expected, there aren’t any parts of the Iron Legion, only a bunch of illegal firearms and drugs.

“This is just like back home!” Peter says as he dodges a punch, fires a web at the guy trying to hit him and another one at the one that tries (and fails) sneaking up on him. “Only without nice old ladies who buy me churros.”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Tony says, his voice full of amusement, “I’ll buy everyone churros afterwards. Happy now?”

“Wait,” Rhodey answers from somewhere deeper in the building, “did the kid just talked about old ladies and you immediately feel addressed? Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Well, honey bear, where should I- Kid, watch out!”

The warning comes too late. As does Peter’s usually trusty spidey sense.

Suddenly, there’s only a very sharp pain running through his body, starting from a place at his back. Before Peter can really grasp what just happened, a beam shoots past him, hitting someone standing behind him. At least, Peter thinks that’s what’s happening. The pain makes thinking very difficult.

With trembling fingers, he touches the spot on the back where the pain comes from. He can’t feel anything but a new stab of pain shooting through him. Someone – Tony – lands besides him and starts talking, but Peter can’t understand his words. Slowly, he lifts his hands and stares at his fingers.

His fingers that are covered in blood.

Just as his legs begin to buckle, everything around him turns black.

Tony catches Peter the second his legs start to shake. “Shit,” he swears, feeling his heart rate pick up immensely. “Kid, can you hear me?” Peter doesn’t react. Tony wants to rip off the mask from his face, but he can’t do that here with so many people around them. “FRIDAY, tell me what’s going on.”

_“Mr. Parker has been stabbed.”_

“I know that!”

_“According to my scans, nothing vital has been damaged, and due to his enhanced healing factor, the wound should be fully healed in less than an hour. The wound does not appear to need any stitches. I advise to put pressure on the wound to slow down the bleeding, and disinfect it to minimize the risk of infection.”_

“Okay, I can do that,” Tony says, shifting Peter in his arms so he can press a hand against the wound. Logically, he knows he can’t feel the blood through his Iron Man armor, but there’s this phantom stickiness to his fingers that almost makes him throw up. “Rhodey, I have to take Spider-Man to the jet, can you-“

“I’ll handle this,” Rhodey interrupts him, the sound of thrusters coming closer. “We’re as good as done here anyway, and police is almost here. Go.”

Tony doesn’t need to be told twice.

He shoots into the air, right through that hole blasted into the building when they dropped in on the criminals, and into the still hovering jet. The second his feet touch the ground, he rips the mask off Peter’s face. He’s looking a bit pale but strangely calm. Tony doesn’t like that. Peter is too energetic to be calm.

“FRI, what-… what do I have to do?” Tony says, trying to ignore the panic that’s building up in him because the kid he’s responsible for got _stabbed_ and is _not reacting to anything_!

“ _Clean and dress the wound, boss_ ,” the AI replies. “ _I can help you through it_.” Normally, Tony would’ve made a sassy comment about her condescending or patronizing tone, but right now he’s too grateful for her help, because he literally can’t even remember the binominal formula right now.

With shaky fingers and a blood pressure that’s way too high to be healthy, Tony somehow manages to treat the wound. It feels like an eternity, even though it can’t be more than a few minutes. “Is-Is that it?” Tony asks, looking at Peter’s still unconscious form. “Or is there something else I can do?”

_“You treated his wound correctly, boss. Mr. Parker’s body will do the rest.”_

“But there has to be something else I can do, like-“

“Tones.” Tony whips his head around. When did Rhodey get back here? Why didn’t he hear him? The Iron Patriot face plate lifts. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Peter got stabbed!” he snarls, the fury in his body finally taking over now that Peter is in safety. Why did he leave that building? He should’ve dealt with those guys himself instead of letting the police handle them. He should’ve-

A hand appears on his shoulder, pressing him down on the ground, next to Peter. “Listen to me when I say this: it is fine. Okay? Yes, Peter got hurt, which is not okay, but you took care of him. And you did a good job. He will be fine. So, this is fine. Okay?”

“I-“

“You,” Rhodey interrupts him before Tony can say what he has to do, “have to stay right here, next to Peter, and make sure he stays fine. Maybe give him an ear full when he wakes up for not dodging that knife. You don’t have to do anything else.”

Tony is still angry, but a part of him latches onto Rhodey’s words that it’s his job to stay beside Peter and make sure he’s okay. Somehow, that part of him wins. Suppressing a defeated sigh, Tony finally steps out of his suit. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Rhodey doing the same. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Good.” Rhodey pats his shoulder. “I mean it, you know? You did a good job of looking out for him.” Tony only gives him a weak smile because he thinks he did a terrible job. After all, Peter got hurt. He should’ve prevented it. Should’ve seen the danger earlier. Hell, he shouldn’t even have asked him to come along! What was he thinking? This was way too dangerous! Every mission has the potential to go sideways, Tony knows that. Why did-

“Hey.” Rhodey shakes his shoulder again. “Don’t overthink it.” Tony only nods, not really trusting his voice right now. “I’ll fly us back to the compound. Helen can have another look at him, but she probably won’t tell you anything you don’t already know.”

For the entire ride back to the compound, Tony doesn’t leave Peter’s side. He also doesn’t leave Peter’s side when Helen checks the wound, saying that the it is almost closed, that he’s going to be fine, and that there’s literally nothing else they can do. Her words calm Tony down a bit, but not enough. Which is why Tony also sits by Peter’s side until he wakes up.

When Peter wakes up, he’s clearly confused about where he is until his eyes land on Tony and he gives him a loopy grin. The knot inside Tony’s stomach slowly loosens. “Mis’er S’a’k.”

“Close enough,” he smiles, leaning forward a bit. “How are you feeling, buddy?”

“Ti’ed.” Peter blinks a couple of times, banning the tiredness out of his mind. Tony can pinpoint the exact moment the boy remembers what happened, all the energy he lacked for the last hours coming back at once, making him shoot upright in his bed. “Oh no! The mission! What-“

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony says with a shake of his head, putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him from jumping out of the bed. “We got everyone and the police took them in. Everything is fine. You did a really good job out there.”

“I got stabbed,” Peter says, sounding and looking very much like a kicked puppy. Tony pushes down the urge to tug him back into bed and make him a hot beverage.

Instead, he gives him a casual shrug. “Mistakes happen. And your wound is already healed, by the way. No damage done. Which, just so you know, should be your priority and not that you hindered the mission or whatever you might think you’ve done. Which you haven’t. The mission was basically over before… that accident happened.”

Peter is not convinced, if his frown and his dropped shoulders are any indication for that. Tony doesn’t like seeing Peter like this, especially when he really did a good job. He kept his distance and webbed everyone up, just like Tony told him to do. Because of him, no one of that gang got away. Would Tony and Rhodey have been able to do it without Peter? Sure. Did Peter make their job a lot easier (and also a bit more entertaining with his non-stop commentary that fit right in with Tony’s and Rhodey’s usual banter)? Absolutely. Was Tony blaming himself for Peter getting hurt? Naturally. Is that even a real question? But while Tony may blame himself for it, he won’t let Peter blame himself. He can’t really say where that urge comes from or why it is completely logical in his head, but he won’t let Peter feel bad for it.

So, Tony has to fix this.

“That’s it,” he says, sniffing once, and standing up, “scoot over.”

“What?” Peter asks, blinking at him with wide eyes.

“You heard me.”

Peter doesn’t move, so Tony takes the initiative, and sits down on the bed next to Peter, swinging his legs onto the mattress and leaning back before thinking twice about it. One of the perks of basically having your own little hospital is the large size of the beds, seeing as they have to be big enough for people like Thor (who is simply not made for a normal sized bed), so Tony actually has enough space to lie comfortable despite the boy not moving an inch.

Peter still stares at him. “What?”

“Well, I told you to move, but you didn’t, so.” Tony shrugs. But before Peter can catch up to what’s happening, the mechanic continues. “Listen. I know you feel bad for getting hurt. But believe me when I tell you that it wasn’t your fault.” It was Tony’s, but he’s not getting into that right now. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Peter answers. He doesn’t sound completely convinced, but Tony takes what he can get.

“Hey,” he says, swinging his arm around the boy as good as he can, and pulling him in for a half-hug, “cheer up. You went onto a mission with Iron Man and War Machine! I expected more excitement.”

That does actually coax a smile out of Peter. “It was pretty awesome. And I got to kick some ass!”

“Absolutely. But don’t tell your hot, scary aunt that I let you say ass.”

Peter only grins.

* * *

**Option 2: Hide your wound underneath your clothes for a dramatic reveal later.**

Peter’s stomach rumbles so loud that it’s completely impossible to ignore. Hoping to stifle the noise, he wraps his arms around his midsection, but it doesn’t matter. Tony is already glancing at him, the beginning of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Well, seems like someone is hungry,” he says, moving his eyes back to the road. “Didn’t you eat enough at lunch? You know you have to eat more because of your metabolism.”

“I know that,” Peter grumbles, the thought that the Tony Stark actually tells him to eat more like some overbearing grandmother not that shocking anymore. After all, Peter gets regular text from his mentor reminding him to eat more – preferably healthy, too. “And I did eat enough, but we were doing these drills at PE and then at Decathlon practice, we-“

“Alright, let’s get you something to eat,” Tony interrupts him, already sensing the rambling explanation that’s bound to follow. “What do you feel like? Pizza? Thai?”

“Actually, can we get some sandwiches? Mr. Delmar’s shop is not too far from here and he makes the best sandwiches in all of Queens!”

Tony shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

All Peter wants is a sandwich – instead, he gets a robbery.

They just placed their order – one number five with pickles, smushed down real flat, and one number eight, which, y’know, Peter doesn’t think is as good as his order, but Tony is old enough to make his own decisions – with Mr. Delmar, who does an excellent job of recovering from seeing Tony Stark in his shop, when some new customers come in. Simultaneously, Peter’s neck starts to tingle.

His hand shoots to the spot on his neck instantly. Tony notices, eyes narrowing. “Everything okay?” he asks in a low voice.

But – of course – before Peter can answer, one of the two people (based on their build, Peter assumes they’re male) with a black ski mask over his face pulls out a gun. “On the ground and phones out of your pockets, now!”

The other costumers of the shop and Mr. Delmar obey immediately, almost seeming too shocked to really think about it. Tony, however, moves fast, planting himself between the two criminals and Peter, shielding him from their view. What he probably hasn’t considered is that it makes Tony pretty visible. And given that he’s one of the most recognizable people of the world, what happens next is kind of predictable.

“Well, well, well,” the guy – Peter thinks of him as the leader – says, eyes on Tony, “looks like we hit the jackpot here.”

“You really think that, buddy?” Tony snarls. “Having Iron Man present for your pathetic robbery?”

“Oh, no, we don’t want Iron Man here. Which is why you’ll kindly hand over your phone, your watch, and your glasses. And don’t even think about doing anything funny or else…” He nods to their left, and as Peter follows his line of sight, he stares right down the barrel of a gun. Well, looks like one of them found the back entrance. Peter doesn’t move as the third guy steps closer to them, gun neatly pointed at his head. He can basically feel Tony vibrating with anger. “Your tech. Now. Or the boy gets a bullet in his head. And no funny tricks either or the-“

“The boy gets a bullet in his head, I get it,” Tony growls, obviously not happy at all about the situation, but he removes his tech nonetheless. A part of Peter wants to tell Tony to just fire away with his watch, call his suit or something, that Peter can deal with this, but he can’t move his mouth, his body caught in a strange paralysis.

With no hesitation at all, Tony throws his watch, phone, and glasses on the counter, raising his hands in the air a bit. “That’s all, I swear.”

“Thanks for your honesty, but I hope you’ll understand that we can’t bet on that,” the first guy – Peter calls him Gun One – says, clearly enjoying the situation. “Take a few steps that way, away from the boy, will you?” Tony doesn’t move. “Now! Or do I have to remind you what’s going to happen if you don’t listen?”

As if to prove a point, Gun Two takes a few steps closer, the gun now less than four feet away from Peter’s face. Rhodey taught him how to disarm someone with a gun, but everything he said is suddenly wiped from his mind. Instead, it’s filled with memories of Ben being shot during a robbery and bleeding out on the floor.

Still growling, Tony takes a few steps to the side, Peter’s back suddenly cold without his body warmth there. Gun Two throws a bag at Peter that he catches absentmindedly. “You’re gonna help us a little bit,” he says, nodding towards the cash register. “Put the money in the back. The tips as well.”

Peter can’t move, everything in his body screaming at him not to listen to the command while he still sees flashes of a bloody body on the floor. Then, he feels something cold against his throat and hears a yell from Tony. “Didn’t you hear my friend?” someone – the third guy – says. “Cash register. Now.”

As he slowly starts to shuffle forward, the cold thing against his throats vanishes, and Peter realizes that it has been a knife, carried indeed by the third guy. Knife stays behind him like a shadow, his weapon only a few inches away from Peter’s back when he forces Peter to place his phone on the counter as well, right next to Tony’s. As he passes Mr. Delmar, he gives him an apologetic look, one that hopefully conveys everything he’s feeling and how sorry he is. Peter doesn’t get anything but a panicky, kind of blank stare back. He wonders if this is Mr. Delmar’s first robbery.

When he stands in front of the open cash register, Peter hesitates, his eyes flying to Tony on their own. His mentor wears a schooled, emotionless expression, not giving away a single thought – but Peter knows what he’s thinking. Because Peter is thinking the same.

Peter could take them down. He has the new prototype of his web shooters around the wrist, the ones that are really slim, passing as some fashionable bracelets, with less web fluid, not really made for patrolling or missions and more a kind of emergency “weapon”, if you want to call it that. Peter could web them up, probably dodging the bullets and the knife, and even if he would get hurt, Peter heals fast. The only problem is that he doesn’t have a mask. Everyone – the criminals, Mr. Delmar, the few customers – would know who Spider-Man is.

Tony is clearly not willing to take that risk. His face hardens even more and he shakes his head just the tiniest bit. The look in his eyes clearly says _Don’t do anything stupid_. And here’s the thing: if Peter were alone, he would’ve done it. In a heartbeat. But he’s not alone. Gun One’s gun is still firmly pointed at Tony’s head. Gun Two’s gun is pointed at a woman that’s cowering near the chips. The possibility that someone gets hurt is pretty high, even if Peter does his best to get rid of the weapons first. What if they have more? What if something goes wrong? What if someone dies because of him?

Taking a deep breath and feeling absolutely stupid and useless, Peter puts the money from the cash register into the bag, followed by the few bills from the tip jar. Every second feels like an eternity, the tension so thick Peter can barely draw a breath. Has someone passing by called the police? Someone has to notice something isn’t right. Or maybe Tony managed to send a distress call before handing his stuff over?

“Let’s not forget about the safe in the back,” Knife orders as soon as Peter finished emptying everything in front of him.

Tony doesn’t like that plan. He always likes having Peter close to him when there’s some kind of trouble around. “Let him stay here. It makes no sense for him to go to the safe. He doesn’t know the combination!”

“Stark does have a point,” Gun One says, almost sounding lost in thought. Then, he looks over to Mr. Delmar. “The combination for the safe or else… well, we’ve been over it, right?” On cue, the knife is back, pressing down on his throat. Peter can hear Tony’s heart skip a beat as Mr. Delmar stutters out the combination for the safe (his daughter’s birthday).

Knife and Peter shuffle into Mr. Delmar’s small office. Peter tries not to think about the suddenly unbearable weight of the bag full of cash in his hand, and instead looks at all the picture Mr. Delmar set up. Tony’s heartbeat still rings loudly in his ears, and the boy does his best to block out his own thundering heart.

“The safe,” Knife reminds him, pushing him forward. Peter stumbles a bit, but eventually opens the safe and packs all of the cash inside the back.

Until he has an epiphany.

Right now, Peter is alone with the criminal. He can take him easily. Then he could use the phone in the office to call for some help. He doesn’t know Rhodey’s or Happy’s phone number by heart (who remembers actual phone numbers nowadays anyways? Maybe Peter should start learning them again, exactly for situations like this one), but he could call the police. Or at least do something that makes him feeling less useless.

“You’re not done yet,” the man behind him says as Peter doesn’t continue to shove the money in the bag.

Peter makes the snap decision, squares his shoulders, and whirls around, ready to attack.

Knife closes the distance between them at the same time.

A sharp pain shoots through his body, forcing Peter to gasp for air, all thoughts of an attack vanished from his mind. The man’s eyes are wide, like he himself can’t believe what happened as they both stare down to Peter’s stomach where the knife is buried.

For a second, nothing happens. Then, Knife panics. He yanks his weapon out of Peter which hurts just as much as getting stabbed in the first place, and wipes the blood off on his black jacket before grabbing the bag of money and running back into the other room. Peter tries to take a breath, hands gripping the chair in front of him. No matter how often he gets stabbed, he’s always surprised how much it hurts.

Knife must’ve reached the other room. “I got the money.”

Before anyone can say something, Tony speaks up. “Where’s the boy?” Peter doesn’t know if he tries to hide the panic in his voice, but if he does, he fails miserably at it.

“Yeah, where’s the kid?” Gun Two asks, too.

Suddenly, every thought of fighting back is gone from Peter’s mind. Not just because he’s in so much pain and moving around, let alone fighting, seems like a very unpleasant idea right now, but because of Tony. Peter is very aware that Tony is protective of him, and he also knows that Tony will literally take a bullet for the anyone he’s trying to protect. And Peter will not let anyone else get shot during a robbery, especially if it’s because of him. So, he has to calm Tony down, show him that he’s okay.

Getting a sudden inspiration, Peter lifts his black shirt and takes a look at the wound. Blood always makes him feel queasy, but he pushes all of those feelings down right now. Lifting his other hand, he aims at the wound and shoots a web at it, the white, sticky substance covering it immediately. It burns a lot, especially when Peter moves around, but it does the trick, his untypical dark clothes hiding the blood.

“He’s, uh-,” Knife starts to stutter as Peter does his best to not cry out while moving around. Slowly, the burning sensation ebbs away – at least enough so that he can move somewhat normally.

“Where is he?” Tony screams at the same time as Gun One asks: “Did you fucking leave him in there by himself?”

“I’m right here,” Peter announces as confident as he can. Immediately, every head in the room whips towards him. Knife’s eyes go wide again, like he fully expected Peter to just die on that floor right now, Gun One and Gun Two are clearly suspicious about what happened in the office, probably thinking he called the police. Tony scans him from head to toe, looking for any hint that he could be hurt. But he stays silent, which has to mean that his plan worked. Otherwise, Tony wouldn’t be so calm.

“Over there,” Gun Two orders him, waving his gun in the general direction of Tony. Peter takes the opportunity to get as close to his mentor as he can, suddenly the urge to be close to him almost overwhelming. The burning sensation hasn’t gotten worse per se, but it’s still very present, making thinking and acting normal very difficult.

Tony shoots him a concerned glance as soon as he’s close enough. _You okay?_

Peter nods and just prays that this will be over soon.

“We’ve got the money, we should go,” Knife says, clearly eager to get out of here.

Gun One, however, doesn’t seem in a rush. His eyes stay on Tony, and Peter imagines him smiling underneath that ski mask. “But we could get so much more money. After all, there’s a billionaire right here.”

Tony scoffs, head held high. “What? You think I actually carry around cash with me? Please. Most of the time, I don’t even have my credit card with me.”

“Then I would suggest you better think of a way to get money to us.” Gun One doesn’t speak the thread, only moves his gun from Tony’s head to Peter’s. The message is loud and clear.

“Fine,” Tony agrees quickly through gritted teeth. “Fine. I’ll get you money. Are you happy now?”

“Oh, absolutely ecstatic.”

Hot and cold flushes run up and down Peter’s spine. His thoughts are getting a bit muddled, and he has to actively remind himself to stand upright. The wound on his stomach hurts with every breath he takes, the burning sensation becoming more and more present.

“You can call Pepper. She will send the money in a fucking suitcase or whatever you want.”

Gun One takes the phone and dials the number Tony tells him. Even though Peter is pretty much focused on staying up right, he does notice what Tony is doing. If it really is Pepper Gun One is calling and not just a random number or a special code to activate one of his suits, she knows the protocol to send a suit to Tony’s position. Even if FRIDAY can’t trace the call back, the AI can still access the position of Tony’s tech. It’s only a matter of minutes before a suit will show up here.

Peter almost sobs with relief, his legs already shaking a bit from exhausting. That doesn’t go unnoticed by Tony, who averts his attention from Gun One (who is talking to Pepper, if Peter’s enhanced hearing doesn’t betray him) long enough to throw him another glance. “Peter?”

“I’m fine,” Peter gets out, even sounding anything but fine in his own ears. Tony doesn’t buy it. Obviously. But before he can say or do anything that might jeopardize his little rescue plan. “Just… nervous?”

At once, the suspiciousness in Tony’s is replaced by so much warmth and love that Peter wants nothing more than to lean into him, to tell him that he got stabbed and that it hurts and that nobody can get hurt and that’s why he has to be brave. But he can’t do that. Not while Gun Two is watching them closely. “Kiddo,” Tony whispers, “it’s going to be fine. Nobody but these assholes is gonna get hurt, I promise.” Of course, Tony knows about Ben. He probably already made the same connections Peter made earlier, comparing this moment right now with the one of the last living moments of Peter’s uncle.

What Tony doesn’t know is that someone already got hurt.

Peter only nods, and hears Gun One demand one billion dollars in cash before hanging up the phone. To distract himself from the burning pain, he wonders if they really think a billion dollars in cash is a realistic demand. First of all, that are a lot of bills. And then you need at least, what? Three suitcases? More? And who has one billion dollars just lying around? Do banks even have that much money?

A new stab of pain flashes through Peter’s body, and he starts to feel dizzy. Maybe he shouldn’t think about what are and what aren’t realistic demands from criminals and instead focus on taking deep breaths. That seems like the more sensible decision.

“You have a very neat little plan here,” Tony starts to ramble, probably to distract the three men from the people around them and keep them busy until a suit arrives. “Getting all the money, wearing those fancy masks. But let us continue this scenario, yeah? How do you think this is gonna end? You just leave that store? Do you really think nobody will notice three masked men with weapons and a bag of cash? Then there’s the probability that someone already called the police. You think they just gonna let you walk away?”

“Probably not. But we have a variety of hostages here. From a celebrity to a child.”

Gun One’s eyes move back to Peter; at least Peter thinks that’s what’s happening. Everything gets a little blurry. But he does hear the growl coming from Tony. “Only over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” Gun Two offers, clearly enjoying the entire situation.

“Oh yeah? Think again, buddy,” Tony snaps back. “Do you know how many people tried to kill me the last few years? A lot. How many of those have succeeded? Not one. Most of them are dead now. I can tell that you’re not the sharpest crayon in the box, but even you have to realize that those statistics are not in your favor.”

“What did you just say?”

“You fucking heard me.”

Gun Two steps closer, clearly enraged, but he doesn’t get far. Tony’s watch on the counter buzzes lightly. Peter notices it because of his enhanced senses, and Tony because he’s been waiting for it.

A small smirk spreads across Tony’s face, as he looks over to Mr. Delmar. “I apologize in advance, and I will pay for all the damages.”

Before anyone can even process his words, the windows shatter with a deafening blast, making everyone scream and cower even further in their corners as an Iron Man suit flies into the room. The suit shoots all the criminals before either one of them can even so much as blink, catapulting them against the walls where they slump up against uselessly.

“Good job, FRI,” Tony praises, clearly pleased, and drops his hands. “For a second, I feared you would shoot me instead of them.”

_“Boss, I have to confess that I have been tempted.”_

“Wow. I think I have to decode you to be less sassy. This is completely intolerable behavior.”

_“Based that you did my initial coding, I do believe my behavior is tolerable.”_

Peter’s original plan is to snort at that, but, of course, his plan doesn’t work the way he wants to. His snort turns into a sudden gasp for air as an especially bad stab of pain comes from the wound, making his legs wobble and double over.

“Peter?” Tony grips his shoulders, keeping Peter from falling right onto his face. Peter wants to say that he’s fine, but this time, he actually does sob. At once, Tony presses him close against his chest, hands flying over Peter’s body to find whatever is causing him so much pain. “FRIDAY, scan. Tell me what’s happening.”

_“Mr. Parker seems to be injured. The wound itself does not appear to be very deep or life threatening, but the… choice of treatment provides a few difficulties, actually causing more damage than helping.”_

Huh. So maybe the burning sensation isn’t actually coming from the wound but from the webs. Why didn’t Peter think about this sooner? After all, he knows what’s in his web fluid. And, yeah, there are a few things in there that you shouldn’t let touch your skin. Why the hell did he think it was okay to put them onto an open flesh wound?

Besides him, Tony curses and moves his hand around until he touches the wet spot on Peter’s stomach, causing Peter to yelp for which Tony apologizes almost excessively before gently lifting the shirt. The usually bright white web is a deep red, the skin around it an unnatural blue-ish color. That’s all Peter sees before goes unconscious.

It feels like only seconds until Peter blinks his eyes open again, but he knows hours must have passed, seeing that it’s already dark outside. Plus, he lays in his bed in Queens, staring straight at the slatted frame of the top bunk above him. That confuses him a lot. Has everything been a dream?

“I brought you here after Helen treated the poisoning you gave yourself.”

Ah, he knows that voice. And that tone, which means he’s in a lot of trouble. When Peter looks at Tony, he is met with a very unhappy Tony. “Sorry?”

Tony raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Are you asking for more specifics or are you apologizing for your absolutely moronic decision to put your web fluid on an open flesh wound? That web fluid you know better than anyone else. The one where I make you put on safety goggles and gloves when you make it. You know how often I tell people to put on safety gear in my lab? Only when it’s really dangerous stuff.”

Peter kind of wants to hide underneath his blanket. “I’m sorry for that. But in that moment, I was just thinking about a quick solution.”

“Which brings me to the second point on my little list. You got stabbed!”

Now, Peter really wants to hide underneath his blanket. For a split second, he actually considers it, but Tony would probably just grab the blanket and yank it off him. “Sorry?”

Tony’s left eye twitches. “Is that another question?”

“Well, I don’t know what the ideal answer is, so… maybe?”

Instead of going off, what Peter kind of expected, Tony only sighs, looking twice his age, and rubs his eyes. “I assume you got stabbed when you were in the office with that douchebag?” Peter mumbles a little _yeah_. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“And me finding out by you passing out because you poisoned yourself-“

“Okay, that _totally_ hasn’t been my intention!”

“-is better? Why didn’t you want to tell me? I could’ve helped you.”

Peter starts to fidget with the blanket between his fingers. He wants to sit up, but he doesn’t really dare to move, feeling too pinned underneath Tony’s hard gaze. “I didn’t want you to overreact or something.”

“Overreacting? Me?” Peter gives him a look. “Okay, point taken. But, really, what did you think was going to happen? That I recklessly attack them and get hurt?” Another look from Peter. Tony sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I might see why you didn’t want to tell me. Still. I want to know if you’re hurt, especially if we’re in dangerous situations. This entire thing could’ve ended quite differently if I hadn’t flown you straight to Helen’s medical practice in Manhattan.”

“What did Dr. Cho say?” Peter asks, trying to get away from the you-didn’t-tell-me-you-got-stabbed-lecture.

“Basically if it wasn’t for your enhanced healing factor, you would’ve died from putting the web fluid on the wound. So, we’re never ever gonna do that again, do you understand me?” Tony looks so serious (and Peter would also say he almost looks scared, but he’s never actually going to say those words out loud), that the boy only nods. “As soon as she removed the web from the wound, your healing could finally work on the actual wound. The spot might be a bit sore for a few days, but other than that it should be fine. Which means if you start to feel weird, you tell someone. May, me, or Helen herself. Okay? No loophole with this one.”

“Okay.” Another hard stare from Tony. “I promise.” That seems to appease his mentor a little bit, his tense shoulders dropping a few inches. “Thank you for helping me, Mr. Stark. And bringing me back home.”

“Don’t mention it,” Tony says, suddenly very interested in Peter’s comforter and sniffing once. “And while we’re on the topic of bringing you home, there’s a reason I brought you here instead of my place which is a lot closer. Because you’re grounded.”

“What?!” Now, Peter does actually sit up, ignoring the slight sting in his stomach. “But that’s not-“

Tony shakes his head. “Don’t you dare to say it’s unfair. It’s not unfair. It’s completely fair and validated.”

“But May-“

“ _May_ can ground you from going out as Spider-Man. _I_ can ground you from going to the lab for putting dangerous chemicals on a stabbing wound. So, no lab for… well, let’s say two weeks. For now. But I reserve myself the right to extend it if I think it’s necessary.”

“And you brought me here because…”

“So you’re not gonna be tempted to sneak into my lab.”

Despite his best efforts, Peter feels pretty disappointed at that. “Does that mean I’m not gonna see you for two weeks or longer?”

Tony blinks in confusion. “What? Why do you think that?”

“Well, if you don’t want me at your place because you think it’s too much of a temptation, and I assume it’s the same for the compound because there’s a lab, too, that means we’re not gonna see each other until I’m ungrounded.”

Tony continues to blink, his mouth opening and closing a few times without any actual words coming out of it. Peter just stares back. After a few silent moments, the billionaire finally finds his voice again. “I might drop by. Just to make sure you’re actually regretting what you’ve done.”

“Sure.” Peter at least attempts to try to keep the smile from his face, but, to be honest, he’s not trying very hard.

“Stop that. Stop smiling. It means nothing. I’m still mad at you.”

“Of course.”

“I mean it. I will only stop by for business, no fun at all. Maybe I’ll even just facetime. Or send Happy.”

“I totally believe you.”

“Oh yeah? Then wipe that stupid smile off your face. You look ridiculous with it.” Peter continues to smile. There’s the ghost of a smile on Tony’s face, but he’s doing a better job at hiding it. Instead, he sniffs once and pulls out a plastic bag from underneath the chair he’s sitting on, the smell coming from it when Tony opens it making Peter’s mouth water. “By the way, Mr. Delmar hopes you’re well again soon, and that you can have as many sandwiches as you want for the foreseeable future. I could stop him from promising you a livelong supply of them because knowing your metabolism, the poor man will probably go bankrupt.”

* * *

**Option 3: Break into your friend’s house in the middle of the night, mumble a ‘hey’, and then collapse.**

“Shit.”

“What?” Peter asks, and only pulls his eyes away from the screen in front of him when Ned doesn’t answer, following his line of sight. “Shit.”

“Guess we kinda lost track of the time?” Ned says, turning the video game off as Peter gathers all his things. It’s past 2 AM and Peter was supposed to be home before 11 PM. Well, at least May can’t chew his ear off because she covers the night shift for one of her colleagues. But he promised to be home on time because she doesn’t like him walking around Queens at night by himself and it is a school night. The argument that he’s literally a superhero now fell on deaf ears. “Dude, you could crash here if you want to. Like, yeah, my mom won’t be too happy that we didn’t ask her, but she would prefer it to you walking home at night on your own.”

“Thanks, but it’s fine,” Peter answers, suddenly getting an idea, and pulling the Spider-Man suit out of his backpack, already starting to change. “I just gonna swing home. It’ll take, like, two minutes.”

Ned’s face lights up like the Christmas tree of an upper middleclass suburban family whose soccer mom-style mother tries to outshine all the other Christmas trees in the street. “Man, that’s so cool. I wish I could do that.”

Peter only grins. He would offer Ned to use his web shooters some time, but even he thinks it wouldn’t be the smartest idea, seeing that Ned doesn’t have enhanced senses and freaks out every time he goes onto a rollercoaster. “I’ll see you at school,” he says as he climbs out of the window, backpack over his shoulder and mask in his hand.

As soon as he’s on the roof, he pulls on the mask and pulls the straps of his backpack tight. “ _Hello Peter_ ,” Karen greets him as usual.

“Hey Karen!” Peter shoots a web to the next building and jumps off the roof, swinging through the air.

_“I have to inform you that it is not only past your curfew, but also not one of your scheduled patrol nights. Due to my protocol, I have to inform Mr. Stark about this.”_

“No, hold up a second! I actually have a really good reason to be in the suit, and I’m not even patrolling right now, so there’s absolutely no need to call him. He’s probably-, well, _hopefully_ , he’s sleeping, and you don’t wake sleeping dragons. Or dogs. I think sleeping dragons is Hogwarts’ motto and-“

_“Why are you in your suit, Peter?”_ Karen asks sounding a bit irritated.

“Okay, so, I was at Ned’s and we kinda didn’t realize how late it was getting, and I thought it’s so much safer if, instead of walking through the dangerous streets of Queens at night, I just swing above them. But someone seeing a random teenager swing through the streets would be very suspicious. Spider-Man, however, would be completely normal. So, really, this is the only sensible option, don’t you agree?”

For a second, all Peter can hear is the wind whooshing past his ears. _“Very well_ ,” Karen eventually says, _“it does sound like the safest option.”_

“Right?”

_“But I will notify Mr. Stark if you sway from your way home.”_

“Which will totally not happen!”

Peter does sway from his way home.

About two blocks later, Peter hears a scream. Before he can even really think about it, he makes a turn, ready to investigate where that scream came from, seeing if anyone needs help. Karen doesn’t even say anything, knowing it’s pointless because it’s literally impossible for Peter to stand by while someone needs help.

A woman is getting mugged. Peter lands in the alley as the woman is whimpering, clutching her purse to her chest, tears streaming already down her face. The man who’s threatening her with a knife looks a bit frantic and Peter wonders for a second if he took any drugs. They always get very unpredictable when they take drugs (not all of them, he doesn’t want to generalize criminals, this is only based on his experiences). “Hey dude,” he greets them, demanding and getting their attention, “threatening people is not nice.”

The man blinks a few times and turns to Peter, seemingly forgetting about the woman he just threatened. She takes the opportunity and runs, not looking back, and Peter has to actively remind himself that he shouldn’t take it personal that she just left without even saying good bye. The man comes closer, knife still raised. “C’mon, man, how about you just-“

Peter doesn’t get to finish the sentence as the man jumps at him, the knife flashing in the low street light. Dodging the first attack is easy enough, thanks to his Spidey sense, and so is dodging the second one – but the third one kind of surprises him. It seems to surprise the man, too, as they both stare at the knife that’s now buried in Peter’s side, about an inch underneath his ribcage.

Breathing suddenly gets very painful. In fact, everything gets very painful. He’s only half aware that the guy bolts, leaving him in the dark alley by himself. Feeling like he’s in a trance, Peter grips the knife and pulls it out, another wave of hot pain crushing over his body, but at least he feels like he can breathe again. “K-Karen?”

_“No vital organs have been damaged, but I recommend immediate medical treatment,”_ the AI answers, a slight touch of panic to her voice.

Peter’s first thought is May. But May isn’t home, she’s at work, and he can’t really show up at the hospital. They’ll figure out that Spider-Man is May’s nephew. Peter blinks and stares at the bloodied blade in his hand. Who else can help him?

Tony. Tony can help him. And the penthouse isn’t that far away. He could make it.

Remembering what happened the last time he put the web formula on an open flesh wound, he forgoes that idea, and instead pockets the knife. If anyone finds a knife with Spider-Man’s blood on it and happens to analyze it and, somehow, manage to get hold of Peter’s old DNA – that wouldn’t be good. His pain-infused and foggy brain knows as much.

Peter is not quite sure how he gets to Tony’s penthouse. The way seems to drag on forever until he blinks once and is suddenly there, standing on the balcony and punching in the entrance code. A part of his brain wonders if he left, like, a blood trail through all of the city. Should he clean that up? He probably should clean it up. That has to count as, like, vandalism or something. But before Peter can turn around and clean up his blood, the door he’s been leaning against gives away and he stumbles into the room.

It takes him a second to remember that he’s supposed to be in Tony’s living room, that he’s actually in the right place. Almost absentmindedly and not quite sure why exactly, Peter pulls out the knife of the hidden pocket in the suit, still staring at it. It’s kind of wild that it has been inside his body. Or partly in his body. Whatever.

Thinking gets very difficult.

There are hurried footsteps and a loud, slightly irregular heartbeat. Peter looks up just in time to see Tony in the door way, staring at him with wide eyes and horror written all over his face. “Hey,” he mumbles. Then, he faints.

“Peter!” Tony leaps forward, but he isn’t fast enough to catch Peter before he falls to the ground. Pulling Peter’s head into his lap, Tony pulls the mask off, revealing the too pale face of the boy. Tony can feel panic rising up in him, making his head spin, preventing his lungs from functioning properly, and clutching Peter to his body in panic.

“FRIDAY, give-give me a scan, tell me what’s going on,” Tony orders in a somewhat broken voice. The AI woke him up when Peter entered the penthouse, reporting that he seems to be severally injured. Tony does not like waking up in the middle of the night to find his intern almost bleeding to death in his living room – he’s dreaming about Peter bleeding to death somewhere else often enough. Why is he in the suit? It’s not a patrol night, and way past his curfew. Why wasn’t he informed about this?

“ _There is a stabbing wound on the right side of his torso that needs stitches,”_ FRIDAY answers. _“I could not detect any internal damage. However, Mr. Parker will need a blood transfusion if the wound stays open any longer.”_

Tony’s eyes fly to the dark red, wet spot on the suit that is growing steadily. There’s already a small pool of blood on the floor. Shaky fingers press the spider in the middle of the suit, causing it to go loose, and he pulls the fabric down enough to see the wound. He thinks he might vomit. Not necessarily because it’s a hideous side but because someone stabbed Peter. _Again_.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder. “It’s going to be fine,” Pepper says in a calming voice as she lowers herself next to him, radiating the calmness he desperately needs right now. “He’s going to be fine.”

Tony wants to nod, wants to call Helen and tell her to come here – but Helen is in South Korea right now. She can’t come here. She can’t stitch him up. Tony can’t stitch Peter up, he doesn’t know how. (He makes a vow to learn it the second Peter is well again). Calling any other doctor is out of question, seeing as they don’t have another one that knows about Spider-Man (something he needs to fix, too). What are they gonna do?

His thoughts must’ve shown on his face, because Pepper only squeezes his shoulder once. “I can do it.” She opens the first aid kit she brought with her that Tony hasn’t noticed before, already working on disinfecting the wound, her hands, and a needle.

The billionaire wants to ask if she can even do this – which is kind of stupid, because, c’mon, it’s Pepper, she can do anything – but the words don’t come out of his mouth. All he can do is grip Peter a bit tighter, like he can make this entire situation better if he just holds him close enough. So, he holds Peter and watches as Pepper threads the needle and starts working on the gash with steady fingers and surprising ease.

For a second, it’s only silent expect for Tony’s deep, wheezing breaths.

“When did you learn how to do that?” Tony eventually asks when his heart calmed down enough for him to not be in danger of a heart attack anymore.

“I always made a point of maintaining my first aid skills,” she answers just as calmly as before, seemingly unbothered by the blood – _Peter’s blood_ – staining her hands. He can’t tell if she really isn’t bothered by it or just keeping a straight face for his sake. Probably the second one. He knows Pepper loves Peter just as much as Tony does. “Especially after you started flying around in your beloved tin can.”

“Stitching people up isn’t part of first aid.” At least Tony doesn’t think it is. He never took a first aid class. Maybe he should. This kid has the absolutely heart attack-invoking talent of getting into trouble and getting hurt because of it. Knowing how to stitch someone up suddenly seems like a very valuable skill.

There’s an almost soft smile on her lips as she glances up to Tony for just a second. “No, it’s not. But my grandmother taught me embroidery. It’s a bit like riding a bike – you don’t forget it that easily.”

That actually surprises Tony so much, he momentarily forgets his worry about Peter. “I didn’t know that. I don’t like it when I don’t know things. Why didn’t I know that?”

“I guess it never came up.”

“You should’ve put that on your resume. Right there underneath special skills.”

Pepper snorts in the way she only ever does around him. “I doubt you read my resume.”

He didn’t. “I did.” The smile on her lips tells him she knows he’s lying, but he doesn’t call him out on it. “So, does that mean you could stitch that wound up as a flower or something?”

“I could, though I think Peter would prefer a Star Wars themed scar, which is a bit above my skill level.” Before Tony could think of a clever response, Pepper is already finished, disinfecting the wound again and putting an oversized band-aid on it. “FRIDAY, is there anything else I need to do?”

“ _Mr. Parker does not seem in danger of bleeding out anymore, and his enhanced healing factor is already working on closing the wound. There are no other medical performances you have to execute, Miss Potts. I am recommending rest for Mr. Parker_.”

“See? He’s fine. Everything is fine.”

Tony lets go of a breath and with the air half of the tension in his shoulders leave his body. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“Of course it is,” she smiles. “Do you want me to help you carry him to the bed?”

“No, I can do it.” Tony carefully shifts his grip on Peter to lift him, ignoring his protesting back and knees. Carrying the boy is a lot easier with the Iron Man suit. Who knew he’s actually heavier than he looks? Tony makes a mental note to always be able to bench-press at least Peter’s weight.

When Tony is already halfway across the room, he stops. “Hey, Pepper?” Pepper turns around from where she stands at the sink, washing her hands. A wave of uncontrollable affection for her crashes over Tony. “Thank you.”

There’s a small smile on her face. “You’re welcome. But you don’t have to thank me for something like this.” Her eyes drift from Tony’s face to Peter’s, and her expression turns incredible soft. “I don’t like seeing him hurt either.”

If Tony wouldn’t be carrying an unconscious enhanced teenager and were standing closer to her right now, he would’ve kissed her. Now, he only blows her a kiss from afar, hoping that she would understand all the feelings behind it, before turning around and continuing his way to Peter’s room.

When Peter wakes up hours later, he feels disoriented. It takes him a few seconds to realize he’s not in his room in Queens, but in the room at Tony’s penthouse that he considers his – seeing that a second set of his clothes, a second toothbrush, shampoo, school supplies, games and books are here, and he also picked out the posters on the wall. It takes him another few seconds to remember that it’s not the weekend and that he’s not supposed to be here. Which means…

He turns his head around slowly and, sure enough, sees Tony sitting next to his bed. His arms are crossed over his chest, and one judgmental eyebrow is raised. Oh, right. Peter got stabbed. “I got stabbed,” he says, his voice throaty from sleep.

“You did,” Tony says, not giving away a single thought that’s running through his brilliant brain, “and then you passed out in my living room.”

Peter doesn’t know how to answer that, so instead he just tries to sit up. Immediately, he can feel Tony’s hands on his arm, helping him getting into a more comfortable position with as little pain as possible. Not that there really is a lot of pain, more like a dull ache from the place the knife had been. “Well, uhm, thanks for stitching me up?”

For a second, Tony tries to be stern, but it crumbles pretty fast. Peter is not quite sure what exactly he did to cause it. Tony sighs deeply, rubbing a hand over his face, suddenly looking a lot more tired than a moment before. “You have to thank Pepper for that. She was the one doing all the work.” Wow. Most badass CEO of the world _and_ able to stitch up a stabbing wound? Is everyone really sure Pepper is only human? “And _of course_ we will help you. Are you kidding me? Do you really think we would’ve just let you bleed out?”

Peter’s face feels like it is on fire. “N-No, of course not! But… still. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Tony gives him a tiny smile that drives away all the tension in Peter’s shoulders. “Now, are you gonna tell me what you’ve been doing, anyways? Because we both know you had no business being out that late in the suit.”

“Well, I’ve been at Ned’s place to play his new game, right?” Tony nods. Peter talked his ear off for over a week about that new game, and how excited he is to play it. “But suddenly it was so late, and I just thought swinging home as Spider-Man is safer than walking home as Peter Parker.”

“Okay, that does actually sound pretty reasonable,” Tony comments. “So, where did it go wrong?”

“This lady was getting mugged and I just couldn’t not help her!” Peter quickly adds as he sees Tony furrowing his eyebrows. It’s a conversation they already had quite often. Peter says he got hurt because he helped someone. Tony argues that he should look out for himself, too. Peter objects that Tony always does the exact same thing, getting hurt while protecting someone else. Tony reminds him that he’s the bad example, not the good one. Peter tries to convince him that that’s not true. Tony never listens.

It’s an endless circle, and neither of them wants to back down.

“And that lady stabbed you?” Tony asks, choosing not to have that old discussion right now.

“No, she ran away. But the dude stabbed me before he ran, too. It was bleeding pretty bad, and Karen said I should get medical help. May was working, and I couldn’t exactly show up to her hospital. So…”

“So, you came here.” Peter nods. Tony seems to think pretty hard about something, but the boy can’t figure out what it is before the billionaire is already talking again. “Just so that I get the full picture, finish the story, please. You got stabbed, decided to get some help – which, by the way, was the right decision – and swung through half of the city?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he shrugs. “I pulled out the knife and because I remembered what happened the last time I used my webs on a wound, I-“

“Wait, wait, wait, back up for a second,” Tony stops him, leaning forward a bit. “You _pulled out_ the knife?” Peter nods again. “As in the knife was still in your body?”

“Yeah, the guy just kinda left it there?” Tony must’ve seen that knife lying around. He did pocket it, right? Or did he hallucinate it?

“Peter,” Tony sighs, rubbing his temple, “why did you pull the knife out? God, no wonder you almost bled out. _Never_ just pull out whatever is stuck in your body. The knife would’ve slowed the bleeding down, almost like a plug.”

“But it hurt.” Even in his own ears, Peter sounds kind of dumb and pathetic. Why didn’t he think of that? It sounds so plausible. Then again, he’d had a difficult time thinking. Tony sighs again, and Peter has a difficult time not to wince at that sound. “You’re mad at me.”

That makes Tony look up. His eyes turn soft as he stares at him, and he moves from the chair to the bed besides him, running a hand through his hair before dropping it on his shoulder. Peter doesn’t notice that he always leans into the touch. “I’m not mad,” Tony says sincerely. “Did I almost have a heart attack when FRIDAY woke me up to tell me you’re here and bleeding quite badly? Yes. Did I hate watching my fiancée stitch you up because Helen is on the other side of the world? Absolutely. But I’m not mad at you. Relieved that you’re okay. And also wondering why you decided to swing here yourself instead of waiting in that alley for me to pick you up. Y’know, I installed that connection between Karen and FRIDAY for exactly these scenarios.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter only says, because even he himself can’t think of a good reason why he didn’t call Tony. That thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. All he thought about was getting to Tony, and swinging seemed like the fastest way. “For all of it.”

“Don’t sweat it, kiddo,” Tony waves it aside with a smile. “You’re fine now, that’s all that matters. Just make sure to avoid knifes from now on, okay? Seriously. I think you exploited all the possible ways to get stabbed.”

“I will, Mr. Stark! I promise!”

That, of course, is not a promise Peter can keep.

* * *

**Bonus option: Sass.**

You would think that after everything, Peter would’ve learned to dodge a knife.

He hasn’t.

You would think that after everything, Tony would’ve developed a sixth sense when the kid is about to get stabbed. Or at least made the Spider-Man suit stabbing-proofed.

He hasn’t.

Peter hisses when the villain of the day buries the blade of the knife in his thigh. “Dude,” he says, holding onto the guys shoulder with a tight grip (judging by the guys small cry of pain a bit too tight), “that’s not cool.”

The villain doesn’t get a chance to answer as he’s shot by a familiar repulsor beam, strong enough to rip him from Peter’s unyielding fingers. However, the second Peter loses his man-shaped support pillar, his legs start to shake, suddenly unable to keep him upright, sending him falling to the ground. Somehow Peter actually manages to not fall onto the knife and bury it even deeper into his leg.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Tony tries to calm him down as soon as he’s next to him, pulling Peter’s mask off his face, one hand running through his hair like a default setting (not that Peter is complaining because that gesture is a lot more comforting than it should be – for both geniuses), the other one hovering over the knife. He’s still in his suit sans the helmet. Worry is etched on his face, deepening the lines of his face and making him look older and, somehow, frailer. “I promise you, Pete, everything will be fine. This is nothing, Helen can fix it in, like, seconds, and-“

“I know,” Peter interrupts him. He’s strangely calm because, let’s be real, this isn’t the first time he got stabbed. By far. Probably won’t be the last time if he’s being totally honest right now. He knows the drill. Tony will give him the best medical care money can buy, won’t leaving his side until an hour after Helen reassures him that Peter is perfectly fine and healthy, giving him everything he asks for and even everything he doesn’t ask for, only interrupted by his occasional rant about Peter being too reckless and giving him too many grey hairs. Tony will take care of him. So, Peter is a lot calmer than Tony probably wants him to be. “I don’t even think the knife hit anything important.”

“Don’t touch it,” Tony says, gently slapping away Peter’s hand as he tries to touch the knife. “How about we let a professional be the judge of that, okay? You know, someone who spend years studying medicine, got a degree, and has years and _years_ of experience underneath their belt?”

Peter cocks his head to the side. “Did you just call Dr. Cho old?”

“What? No! I-“

Something Tony classifies as a shit eating grin spreads across Peter’s face. “I’m gonna tell her you called her old.”

Tony sighs. “Y’know, I kinda liked it better when you passed out after getting stabbed. Was a lot quieter.”

“No, you don’t.”

For a second, Tony tries to be stern, but he loses the fight. “No, I don’t.” Proud about his victory, Peter grins – until a sharp pain runs through his body, turning that grin into a grimace. “Okay, back to the original topic of this conversation: getting you to Helen.”

“Y-Yeah,” Peter hisses through gritted teeth. “Should I web it up? Making sure the knife stays in its place and plugs the wound or something?”

“Oh, so you _can_ learn?” Peter only huffs out a laugh, appreciating Tony’s efforts to keep the mood light. “Yes, web it up, but don’t let it touch the wound.” It’s not as painless as Peter wants it to be, attaching the webs causes the knife to move a bit which is the complete opposite of pleasant. The second it’s somewhat secure, Tony picks him up, helmet reappearing around his face. Just then, Peter remembers something else, but before he can even open his mouth, Tony already shakes his head. (Peter is pretty sure his mentor is rolling his eyes behind the mask.) “Don’t worry about that scumbag, kid. Police is already on the way.”

“You just call people scumbags, Mr. Stark,” he says as they shoot into the air. “He could be a nice person who just had a bad day.”

Tony’s sigh sounds a bit robotic through the Iron Man mask. “Only you could defend the person who just stabbed you. I don’t care if he’s a nice person. He stabbed my kid, that makes him a scumbag in my book.” A warm feeling spreads through Peter’s body as he hears the words, and it makes him forget the pain for a few seconds.

Halfway on the way to the compound, Peter has another question. “Hey, Mr. Stark?” Tony only hums in response. “What’s going to happen now?”

That gets him a proper response, Tony actually tilting his head a bit to look at him properly, most likely wondering if he hit his head during the fall or something. “What do you mean?”

“Like, is this my knife now? Or do I have to give it back?”


End file.
